Saturday, December 26, 2015

How The Grinch Stole Our Christmas

Ever wondered what the weirdest thing is, people give to charity? A few years ago The Grinch stole our Christmas. Recently I asked myself that question as I donated some of the things my love and mistress left behind. Another crazy December, made me look back. Today – Boxing Day – a story of a love that wasn’t meant to be. Read on and you’ll understand why every year around Christmas, I think of her.

wooden box with BDSM toys: whip, ball gag, cuffs, riding crop
Mine looked a little different.

When love leaves town, you box her personal items to be picked up later. Or not. A couple of years ago The Grinch stole our Christmas and all he left me with was the box, a deluxe edition with nipple clamps and other spicy items. Fortunately nipple clamps don’t scare me. The hand that operates them however, does.

I shelved the box somewhere nearby. After all the two of us knew Christmas apart was a mere glitch, delaying the inevitable. We both agreed with Churchill when he said: “It is not the beginning of the end, but rather the end of the beginning.”

The year that followed, turned out to be one big rollercoaster ride. The Grinch not only stole Christmas, he obliterated Valentine’s Day and massacred the Easter Bunny a few weeks later. The four birthdays and a funeral he wrecked are mere collateral damage. All that time the box didn’t move an inch, it gathered dust instead.

Christmas exists for two reasons: to hug trees and to give lovers the chance to reunite. That’s why it is called the season of hope. In early December, I heard it through the grapevine, someone locked the Grinch in a dungeon far, far away and painted him pink on top of that. Mistress is always right and I am never wrong. The icing on the cake of what makes us the perfect couple. I asked myself what can go wrong the second time around? Silly boy.

Unfortunately The Grinch escaped or maybe news of his capture was overdone. That Christmas he returned – back with a vengeance. It was horror. Hollywood is still fighting over the movie rights.


As Time Goes By
In the 1942 film Casablanca, barowner Rick (Humprey Bogart) forbids Sam (Dooley Wilson) to play "As time goes by". The song’s lyrics refer to Albert Einstein's concept of time as a fourth dimension.

We’ve all been there. I remember thinking: "Maybe we are together in a parallel universe" or "We'll make it in the next life". Lovers trying to reunite often feel like they are looking into a crystall ball. Letting go is easier if you know it is the end of the road. Instead, confusion is all there was. Baffled by what happened, convinced we got ourselves in another fine mess, it was hard to let go. What if I am wrong?

But to love also mean to let go when the time has come. A few weeks later I moved her box to the basement. The year before, I didn't get the note Christmas was cancelled, so there was already a second box with some personalized items, I had bought. Nice things, nothing fancy, but that is besides the point. I had other ideas for that. The first time mistress stayed at my place, I got her a pair of warm fuzzy slippers. My house feels comfortable, but I am just a guy, what do I know? More importantly it was meant to show her: "I am so glad you're here". “Our home on this side” Instead I was told off for leaving the price tag on. You cannot have it all. Christmas was meant to convey a similar message, just a little more elaborate.

Ignored the boxes for years untill a few months ago I cleared out the basement for a new project. Born and raised in Holland does not mean I do not understand I am priviliged. I love to travel – a bit spicier than Club Med please – and have seen poverty and despair at its worst. It convinced me even more not to throw away anything others still have use for. My travels also influenced my views on femdom – especially findom. I’ll leave that for another day. After carefully sorting out everything, most I gave to family and friends. What was left, I donated to our local charity.

romantic femdom setting. satin sheets, candles a rose and a pair of handcuffs
Perhaps 10.000 candles is overkill.
Next time, I'll keep it simple, a red rose and a pair of handcuffs.


Insanity in a box

In that box were my plans for our Christmas together. The memory put a smile on my face. Good love, happy love always does that, even if it is a love past.

Happy love brings joy. Together they spark creativity more than anything else. I love femdom for many reasons other than born this way. It is weird, bizarre and slightly absurd. What’s not to love about it? Same thing with my creativity, I always come up with something daft, but fun.

This time I decided to map a pattern on the floor of my apartment, using thousands of tealights. I intended it to run all the way from the elevator, right through the front door and hall, straight into the living room. Since the neighbours had to light and watch them as I picked up supergirl, I grudgingly settled for just a few hundred. The bare minimum for what I had in mind: a pattern with two hearts in different colours and some hidden clues. When I unpacked the candles several years later, they smelled worse than when I bought them. Thank you IKEA.


It’s always personal

Next there were two sets of bath robes with names embroided and two sets of personalized towels to let the girls know how happy I was to spend Christmas together. And yes when Christmas Day comes I am bored out of my skull before 10AM. Most men are. I know...

The box also included two wooden name signs, that I made myself. One with her name in white – and no it’s not mistress – and a red heart behind it, resting on a pedestal. That, I just couldn’t resist. Turn it over and you'd see it engraved with a quote:
“If equal affection cannot be
Let the more loving one be me”
The heart I made out of two pieces of wood. Hidden in between, a personal message in Dutch. I knew, I would pay dearly for that, but sometimes it’s stronger than me.

drawing of a dominatrix holding a whip looking at her slave who is just lowering his pants
Not that she needs a reason, but when opportunity knocks...
"In Dutch? Really?" "What were you thinking silly boy."

If the woman you love, is also your mistress, noblesse oblige. I bought a large trophy, the kind you see on TV, waiting for the winner of a major sporting event. It was massive, some fourtyfive centimeters – need I say including pedestal? I seperately ordered an engraving plate. It read something like “My Love, my Mistress, Goddess among goddesses.” Deeply personal, so I removed the plaque before I took it to the goodwill store. The volunteers probably wonder what “discipline” hands out such huge trophies. As for mistress, I know she’d love it.

There were many more items. Most of them, I passed on to friends and family. One day I saw a mug, intended for mistress, resting in a friend’s cupboard. It had a text that said: “Queen of Fucking Everything”. I smiled and realized how even a mass product becomes something personal, when done right. My friend is a total sweetheart but she will never be the queen of whatever anything, just proves that.


Not the usual suspects
Mistress’ box on the other hand contained the usual girl stuf: brushes, bra's, body lotion, butt plugs, nipple clamps, a wig and a pvc dress. I was instructed not to wear that dress, and I didn't (it's not my thing). Some clothes I gave to a friend. The look on her face when I explained, was priceless. The toys, but not the dress, I threw away. It ended up in a bag with other stuff I was donating to charity. I wish I could hear their comments as they see what is inside the bag. Just don’t hold your breath in today’s post Fifty Shades world. They probably start discussing the weirdest items ever donated. New format for a TV show perhaps?


Going Dutch
We Dutch are cheap. We prefer to call it frugal, but fact of the matter is, if we overspend, the government takes away our passports. Femdom increasingly emphasizes the need for slaves to be loaded. So if everybody spends more on their mistress, I spend less. But not when it comes to the woman I love. Shortly after we met, something amazing happened. It is the happiest moment of my life. You cannot capture the essence of that in a pair of Louboutins, so I decided to have a gold medallion commisioned, the old fashioned kind, one that you can open. That way she could wear it whenever she liked, without the distraction of prying eyes.

As it turned out not something, your local jewelry store can help you with. Unfortunately, despite their posh words, the goldsmiths I spoke to, lacked creativity. By the time Christmas came, my masterpiece had not moved from the drawing board one inch. Its budget on the other hand had ballooned upwards and by then easily covered the expense of a wedding ring and the honeymoon that comes with it. Most of the time, I rush things. Not this time. Too important, it had to be right. Meant to last a lifetime. After all, we had all the time in the world.

Perhaps you wonder, what if I already commisioned it? Give it to her of course. Not all loves last a lifetime. That doesn’t mean you shouldn’t cherish the memory of what once was.

There you have it. The story of how the Grinch stole our Christmas. Twice. From that December on, every year when the holidays come, I can't help but think of her. With a smile. Looking forward to next year’s Christmas already. No regrets, happy for what was. We both moved on. One year later the Ghost of Christmas Future knocked on my door. He invited me to a hunting party: Grinch hunting – with a vengeance. Chopped of his head and boiled the green monster in a pot. Not for us, but to make sure others will be spared a similar fate. And boy, it felt good!


Life on the road
Looking back, I learned there is so much I won’t do for my mistress but will do for the woman I love. If that makes me the crappiest slave ever, I'll consider it a badge of honour, I wear with pride. I want things to be real, whether it is giving up control or love. Servitude is about my own desires. If you want serve, serve with your heart.

A while ago I saw Terminator Genysis. Spoiler alert: Arnie is old. Another alert: it is a terrible movie. Terminator II was one of the few sequels that is actually better than the original. It established Sarah Conner's character as a strong woman. Almost archetypical, unlike Mad Max Fury Road's Furiousa, who at best is a light version of a tough girl. Back then Terminator ended with the words that the future was once again wide open. Sometimes, I wish, it was not. But don’t we all? Then again, only a true masochist falls in love.

December is the month where most of the crazy stuff in my life happens. This year proved no different when disaster struck as I was helping a young woman, I hold as dear as my angel. Fortunately, this time I saved Christmas. It is going to be one of the best ever. Upon realizing that, I wrote this story. Now that I am done, I’ll just put my feet up. No fancy stuff this year, I’m tired. Who cares Sherlock lives? Luther is back. So is the Doctor’s wife. Make my day, someone please kill Clara Oswald. That woman is getting more impossible every single episode. Maybe I’m in for a treat.

Merry Christmas to you and your loved ones.

drawing of three women watching tv, undisturbed by a man who is naked, gagged and bound to a chair.
Me, myself and I, vanilla style, with my feet up on the couch. This is not what I had in mind. Winding up naked, helpless and humiliated in front of mistress and her friends.

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